


miroirs IV

by halfaday



Category: SF9 (Band)
Genre: M/M, a lot of love in many shades, and just a few other colours here and there, just hurt comfort, no whump!!! a first!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23498671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfaday/pseuds/halfaday
Summary: kisses, a funeral, life, and, in many shapes: love
Relationships: Kim Seokwoo | Rowoon/Lee Sanghyuk | Dawon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	miroirs IV

**Author's Note:**

> a collection of drabbles inspired by many different things — a little too many, actually, so i’ll leave the link that sources everything [here](https://galatewoon.tumblr.com/m4), recommend that you check it out, but only if you really desire to know about the prompt background of this collection, and get right into it, okay?

1\. 'well, you know. everything that is buried gets dug up eventually.'

juho casts a glance at sanghyuk, then at the elephant in the room, sitting on the edge of his bathtub, getting cleaned up by what was once juho's best friend. once, because there is a clear line best friends should not cross, and bringing a living dead home is way past it.

'i don't think that's what whoever-said-this meant when they said that,' juho replies, finally bringing the dead's attention away from sanghyuk's face; back to him. his eyes, although covered by a thin veil, are as aware as any (really) living being, look at him and understand. brown pools of calm, examining everything and anything. juho shudders.

'well, who cares? seokwoo's here now!' sanghyuk smiles at the dead — _seokwoo,_ apparently — go figure how he found out his name. 'are you happy to be here, seokwoo?'

seokwoo turns back to sanghyuk, his big eyes settling in his, finding something there without ever looking for it.

'i am.'

sanghyuk's grin widens, and he doesn't even exchange a glance with juho as he declares the sentence.

'then it's settled. you'll live here for now.'

2\. sanghyuk's mouth is pliant against his, soft, plump lips kissing him back every time, tongue following his lead. his hands grip his shoulders, then his hair, then his waist — an interminable dance, one that mirrors perfectly the final act, only that now the passion sanghyuk fakes every performance is present, burning up the both of them and clouding their minds. it's — electrifying, has seokwoo bordering on the brink of insanity, and he pulls away, just a few centimeters, just so he can catch his breath, just so he can _think._

sanghyuk watches as he inhales deeply, hands perfectly still on the small of his back, waiting.

'do you-' seokwoo starts, but his words trip over themselves, do not know how to stand on their own, and he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath before opening them. sanghyuk is oh-so pretty, cheeks and lips a bright red, his shirt revealing the delicate skin it hid up until now, his eyes focused on seokwoo, and only seokwoo. it's all so different from rehearsals and performances, from the mere brushes of their hands, and the tentative gazes a few months ago. it's everything seokwoo has dreamt since he first laid eyes on sanghyuk, since he first spoke to him, and yet so unlike all of it — he's hesitant, and doesn't know how this will all turn out, if there is anything to look forward to after this - this mess.

it's everything he wants, and yet it scares him, and he cannot help himself from trying rather than doing, afraid of the outcome of it all.

'are you sure about this all,' he whispers, voice barely audible.

he clears his throat, ashamed, shy; and it's a few seconds before sanghyuk replies, before he slides a hand under his shirt, and caresses him gently, as if he were his lover. 

'yes,' he says, and he leans forward, just enough to close the distance between them, to kiss seokwoo.

he kisses him once, twice, whispers another _yes_ then kisses him again, slower, longer, the hand on his back travelling to his hip and settling there, holding him still, making him his.

'i want you,' he says, lips brushing against lips before kissing them once more.

and seokwoo, finally convinced, closes his eyes, kisses back a hundred times and more — and decides that whatever will happen next, can wait.

3\. sanghyuk looks tired, huge bags under his eyes, pale complexion under the light of the corridor. the sad smile on his lips doesn't reach his red eyes, but it does reach seokwoo's heart, grazes it and stomps on it as he asks if sanghyuk is doing fine.

pure politeness: they both know he isn't.

'i'm okay,' sanghyuk answers nonetheless, as if he could fool a single person on earth, as if seokwoo couldn't see the tears streaks on his cheeks. heartbreak does not look good on him, never has, and it takes all of seokwoo's willpower not to step forward and hug him, to cup his face and whisper that everything is going to be okay, that he's here no matter what.

'are you sure? you don't look like it.'

sanghyuk tightens his hold around his blanket, forces a bigger smile — and fails, but seokwoo pretends he doesn't notice, pretends, as always, that he naively believes everything he says and does.

'i'll be okay soon. don't worry.'

he peers into the bag of groceries seokwoo gave him then, makes an act of looking at the medicine carefully placed on top of the boxes of instant noodles.

'hey, you thought of my headaches. neat.'

seokwoo ignores the subject change, too used to sanghyuk avoiding emotional talks — nods instead, answers that yes, he did, he knows sanghyuk after all, they've been friends for eight years.

'juho doesn't remember,' sanghyuk says, and there is a minuscule glint in his eyes, one that has seokwoo's heart beating a little quicker.

 _because he doesn't love you like i do,_ seokwoo thinks, but he keeps this thought locked in a corner of his mind, somewhere his despair lives freely and without shame.

'well, you know juho,' he replies instead. 'if it's not about jaeyoon, it's immediately categorised as irrelevant.'

sanghyuk laughs, the sound quieter than usual, but sincere.

'true. jaeyoon is his entire world.'

'indeed.'

juho and his infatuation for his now-fiancé is an easy topic, something they sometimes talk about for a long time, but today, they don't, instead falling silent, standing around awkwardly, like two strangers. seokwoo guesses it's emotional constipation that has sanghyuk unable to say anything, as always when he gets dumped; the fear of being weak in front of others, of admitting he's not doing well — he wonders if he'd act the same if they were together, if they were puzzle pieces that fit perfectly, if he and sanghyuk had made silent vows to protect and care for each other. his have been made long ago, at the very start of their friendship — they're what forbids him to even attempt to say something, too greedy, too treacherous to be trusted with the control of his mouth. they want to know everything about sanghyuk's broken heart, and desperately want to fix it, want to hold him close and never let him go. they want to whisper sweet nothings to his ear, and tell him _i love you_ a hundred times every day — and such things seokwoo cannot allow.

one day he wishes for courage to find him, and to finally be able to bother sanghyuk just a little more, to be able to word his worries. he wishes for the ability to be fine with sanghyuk simply being his friend, and never wanting more — but today is not that day, it seems, so he bends, and folds himself into a corner where he knows he, and his feelings for sanghyuk, will be safe.

'i'll go,' he says, quietly.

sanghyuk looks up; minuscule, broken thing in search of warmth, and seokwoo's heart breaks, shatters into a million pieces. _if only,_ he thinks, starts to think, but this is a dangerous path, one he should never take. he smiles, as best as he can.

'you probably have things to do. i'll leave you to it.'

he doesn't wait for sanghyuk to reply, the sight of his teary eyes unbearable; he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, ready to go back to his car.

'call me if you need something, okay? anything. i…' he stops, unsure of whether to word his thoughts or not, but the way sanghyuk seems to cling to his words as if they were a lifebuoy gives him confidence. 'i'm here for you. i know everyone says that a ton of times, but i mean it, alright? i'm here for you.' 

_awkward,_ he thinks as soon as the words have left his mouth, _awful wording,_ and it takes all of his willpower not to take to his heels.

but sanghyuk smiles, a thin, sincere smile, and warmth blooms in his chest. 

'thank you,' he says, softly, and for the first time today, his smile fully reaches his eyes.

 _no problem,_ seokwoo manages to say, every other word stuck in his throat — _promise me you'll call; i'm here for you even when it's 3am and the entire half of this world sleeps soundly; i love you._ he swallows them down, keeps them locked in a corner of his being, and, with a smile, heads to his car. it's — not enough, will never be enough, but it's what sanghyuk needs, and so seokwoo complies.

'hey,' sanghyuk calls as seokwoo unlocks his car. he looks small, so small, standing on his doorstep, his huge blanket swallowing him, the gigantic plastic bag hanging from his hand not quite helping.

'yes?'

'what do you do when you go through breakups?'

the question amuses seokwoo, briefly.

'i wouldn't know. my last breakup was when i was fifteen.'

sanghyuk has the decency to blush, and seokwoo, endeared by the rare sight, takes pity on him.

'i think i spent a good month moping around. the first week was the worst, though. i was an immovable object. couldn't leave my house. couldn't even leave my bed, sometimes.'

sanghyuk nods, as if these are the wisest words seokwoo has ever uttered. how lost he is, seokwoo thinks, and curiosity gets the better of him.

'are you going through this?' he asks, quietly enough that they can both pretend he never said it if sanghyuk doesn't feel like talking.

but it seems he does: he nods, slowly, avoiding seokwoo's gaze.

'yeah. i am becoming one with my couch.'

'is it comfortable, at least?'

the comment catches him off-guard — a half-hearted laugh escapes his lips.

'not as much as i wish it were. it's…'

'lonely?'

sanghyuk shuts his eyes, briefly, taking a deep breath, and for a moment seokwoo fears he is going to cry. but he does not: he exhales, and opens his eyes again, fakes a smile again.

'yep. hecking lonely.'

 _i can stay,_ seokwoo almost says, but it's too bold, and in the end, not the company sanghyuk is looking for. his presence would (will) never be as soothing as that rotten man who left him four days ago, is not what sanghyuk truly needs. he's a friend, one of sanghyuk's best friends, and no matter how close they are, their relationship will never thread into the romantic paths seokwoo's heart dwells at. not that he means nothing to sanghyuk; he does, and knows it — but he also knows who he is will never be as comforting as the man that was with sanghyuk.

'say,' sanghyuk continues, pulling seokwoo from his thoughts, 'what are you doing tonight?'

seokwoo thinks of the pile of articles he has to comb through before monday, the two articles he has to finish before the clock strikes four tomorrow, and all the research he has to do, all the little promises of overwork he made to youngbin before heading out of work and into an apparently rainy weekend.

'not much. having dinner by myself, doing a little work, perhaps.'

sanghyuk nods. furrows his brows, just like every time he thinks and plans. it's adorable, endearing, and seokwoo gets the overwhelming urge to cross the few meters between them, to cup his face and kiss him, once, twice, thrice, until they're out of breath and the universe, the world, the shitty guy who dumped him, do not matter anymore.

but sanghyuk speaks, and seokwoo's urge is forgotten.

'do you- i'm gonna sound pathetic. shit.'

seokwoo remains still, remains silent, waiting.

'are you up for a gigantic cup of ice cream? it's oreo-flavored. or cookies. your pick. i've been- all i've wanted to do since tuesday is sit around and eat until my arteries blow up while jennifer aniston cries about the love of her life not being nearby. and i actually haven't eaten that much, but… i… i think i'd like some company.'

it takes a while for seokwoo to gather his thoughts. first is the surprise, then comes the quiet, but firm _it's only because you're here right now_ — and then the hesitation, the thought that perhaps he should go, that no matter how often they've been alone together, it's still dangerous for his already fragile heart, that he might fall a little more for sanghyuk. but should he say no? he's sanghyuk's friend, and does not desire to let him down, especially during such a rough patch.

'i'm not really the best companion to watch romcoms with,' he says. 'la la land makes me absolutely furious and i periodically cry over muriel's wedding.'

'i'll remove la la land from the pile of dvds i rented, then.'

a pause, a smile seokwoo cannot quite keep away from his lips.

'alright. but we're having a proper dinner. the ice cream is for later. okay?'

sanghyuk nods, and once more, he smiles, a smile that illuminates his face, a smile that seokwoo is familiar with, one that makes him look like he's okay, everything is fine and his heart is not broken.

it'll come, seokwoo thinks as he walks into sanghyuk's house, it'll take time but one day, sanghyuk will be back on his feet, cheerful as ever. and he'll probably fall for someone else, will probably break seokwoo's heart unknowingly again, but for now — he needs seokwoo and seokwoo shall be there.

'it's the shop around the corner. have you seen that one?'

sanghyuk's smile is bright, so bright, and he lays half of his blanket on him once they're settled down, hands him overly sweet candies that seokwoo knows is terrible for their health. he grabs a handful.

'my sister's favourite. can you rewind it?'

'sure.'

all of this is painful — for sanghyuk, for him — but, as sanghyuk compliments him on dinner a few hours later, as he snuggles up close to him while david abott discovers a ghost in his apartment, he presses pause on his fears and worries, and focuses on being the friend sanghyuk needs. 

he can worry about the consequences later.

4\. they've been doing this for — seven months, for — far too long.

technically (because there is always a _technically_ with sanghyuk and everything that involves seokwoo), they've been doing this for far longer, since seokwoo winked at sanghyuk during youngbin's party, since sanghyuk sent him a (back then) risky text.

 _well, why don't you just start dating me,_ he'd sent, or something like that — something that revealed his feelings a little too much, something that he could pretend was a joke; something that would hurt nevertheless. 

_babe, just say the words and i'm yours,_ had been seokwoo's immediate reply.

until now, sanghyuk has never said them. he's come close, has sensed a shift in seokwoo's behaviour a few times — but he's a fool, a coward, and he doesn't want what they have to rot, is scared the words will expose and destroy the fragility of his feelings. he knows seokwoo would disagree, just like he knows he's starting to get impatient, to want more: no matter how great at acting he is, his disappointment is obvious, eats away at sanghyuk's heart whenever it crosses his face.

and all of that is sanghyuk's fault, but he's weak, childish, and he doesn't want to face the reality of this mess, is scared to put words on what has only been actions up until now.

'you're thinking,' seokwoo says, bringing him back to the situation at hand, to the wall against which he's pinned and the fucking mess they both are.

sanghyuk wraps his arms around seokwoo's neck, pulls him closer.

'am i not allowed to have thoughts?'

the hand slid underneath his tee-shirt seems to hesitate, disappearing before coming back.

'that's not it,' seokwoo says, kissing sanghyuk anyway, almost out of habit, 'you're thinking a little too much for what we're doing.'

he worries so much — it's stupid and really fucking annoying, somehow makes sanghyuk's heart ache and regret everything they've done. _if only,_ it always makes him think, and sanghyuk hates that, hates knowing this entire thing is (mostly) his fault.

'i'm,' he says, starts, doesn't finish. _i'm thinking about us,_ he wants to say, in the funniest tone possible, so that he doesn't come off as serious, so that seokwoo doesn't know of his feelings. not like he doesn't know, but — pretending is the only thing they've got going anymore.

he doesn't say it, stays quiet instead. seokwoo is tired of this all, and sanghyuk doesn't want to hurt him.

'i'm thinking, that's all,' he mumbles, playing with the hair on seokwoo's nape to distract himself.

'am i that bad of a kisser?'

it's said jokingly — of course, of fucking course, because seokwoo knows him inside out and can probably tell what's going on in his mind, because he's too fucking nice and won't say anything about this mess they're in until sanghyuk pisses him off and makes him want to leave. sanghyuk has been tip toeing on eggshells for weeks now.

'i've been kissing you for a while now, i'd be a bit disappointed if you're not enjoying this.'

sanghyuk hums, pulls seokwoo closer, close, burrows his hands in his hair.

'i wouldn't kiss anyone else, love.'

the pet name makes seokwoo smile, earns him two pecks on the lips. sanghyuk adores it.

'nice way to dodge the question.' another kiss. 'what's on your mind? kiss for your thoughts?'

sweet offer, just like seokwoo himself. offering to listen, offering to give advice. offering to kiss sanghyuk a few billion times with no strings attached, offering himself because he likes sanghyuk, has liked him for a while, and this is as close as he can get from dating him.

some days, sanghyuk can't even bear to see his own reflection in the mirror. his complete lack of bravery disgusts him.

'i'm just thinking,' he says. he avoids seokwoo's gaze, just like he always does when they're threatening to talk about what they've been doing.

seokwoo doesn't care, acts like he doesn't notice and pokes his chin, attempts to cheer him up. because he's sweet, and doesn't know sanghyuk is shitscared of being his, no matter how much he wants it.

'is it important?'

yes.

'no. not really.'

the finger on his chin, tilting his head, requesting that he looks at seokwoo. sanghyuk obliges. gets just a little lost in his eyes.

'then what's the matter?'

 _you,_ sanghyuk wants to say, _us. i love you,_ he wants to tell him, _i want to be yours properly. want to be able to call our late-night hang-outs dates, to kiss you in front of everyone, to call you mine and know your embrace is my safe place. be mine,_ he wants to say, _be mine properly._

and he could, could just confess right here and then, ask seokwoo to be his boyfriend and blush when he'd say yes — but his throat, his mouth won't let him. his brain is scared that somehow seokwoo might not want this, is scared that by giving a name to their relationship they'll only destroy it. _he_ is scared. so scared.

'nothing.'

he wraps his arms around seokwoo's waist, resists the urge to burrow his face in his shoulder and whisper that he loves him, fakes a smile instead.

he hates this situation — hates himself.

'kiss me.'

seokwoo does, gauging him before leaning in; planting pecks on his lips before properly kissing him, putting so much care in his kisses that it drips, falls to the floor and forms a puddle, gooey feelings clinging to sanghyuk's shoes, immobilising his legs and rendering him unable to step back, to put a stop to this situation. seokwoo kisses, and kisses, makes sure to make him feel loved, stroking his hip then cupping his face, pulling him close then closer, pouring emotions he doesn't have the right to say out loud in his osculations.

sanghyuk aches, wants to go back to the very beginning and never meet seokwoo. wants to ignore him, so he doesn't have to hurt him, wants to protect him from this situation, and the pain it brings.

wants to be his.

doesn't have the courage to ask for it.

seokwoo pulls back, just a little, to breathe and look at sanghyuk, to verify he's doing the right things. he always is, has never done a mistake once. 

'hyuk,' he whispers. the nickname he hates, has always hated — and yet he tolerates, likes it when seokwoo uses it. one more weakness, amidst everything else that seokwoo does and says.

'yes?'

seokwoo smiles, a sad, painful smile, ghost of something that used to grace his lips back when the lines weren't blurred and stepped on every minute of every day.

'if this were important, you'd tell me? you know i'd listen?'

his eyes are — not quite sad. thoughtful, just a little bit pained, filled with regrets and yet shining with the tiniest hint of hope.

sanghyuk hurts. wants to open his mouth, and let the confession standing on the tip of his tongue fall, wants to free himself from the shackles he himself put round his hands. can't — the words tumble over each other, fall back down his throat and land on his heart, leave him mouth agape and unable to word the truth.

he swallows, cups seokwoo's face. once again, he'll disappoint.

'yes.'

and he kisses him, just once, just long enough for seokwoo to know he's sorry.

tomorrow, tomorrow he'll tell him.

5\. seokwoo fails to contain his laughter at the words, grin slipping past his lips, and he wraps his arms around sanghyuk, endeared.

'babe,' he says, starts, doesn't finish, another chuckle bubbling up in his throat.

'don't laugh,' sanghyuk grumbles, barely audible with his gigantic cheeks, with his mouth pressed to seokwoo's sweater. 'it hurts.'

he sounds like he's pouting, voice just a tiny bit whiny and sad, and seokwoo's laughter becomes softer, fonder.

'babe,' he repeats, gentle, his hand meandering in sanghyuk's hair, combing it with his fingers.

sanghyuk lifts his head, just enough to meet his gaze, chin propped up on seokwoo's sternum.

'it really hurts.'

he makes a face, supposed to be sad, but his cheeks are much too swollen for the proper expression to be conveyed, and seokwoo has to bite back another laugh. how cute he is.

'baby,' he says, and he strokes sanghyuk's cheek, 'did you take your meds?'

sanghyuk nods.

''did. still hurts.'

'that's because you gotta wait for them to kick in.'

sanghyuk moans, burrows his face in seokwoo's chest.

'ea-t heu'ts,' he mutters, voice totally muffled. he sounds like a kid who just fell off his bike for the first time, like a baby who still doesn't know how pain works. 

seokwoo, sensible adult, caresses the small of his back. 'do you want me to kiss it better?'

he expects a loud yes and for sanghyuk to come up — but surprisingly, sanghyuk remains where he is, and shakes his head.

'no. it'll hurt.'

'would it really?'

seokwoo smirks as sanghyuk looks up, sure to hear him surrender, and admit that indeed, it would not hurt, but sanghyuk mutters a pitiful _yes,_ and his grin becomes a pout.

'baby,' seokwoo says, but he doesn't finish, sanghyuk burying his face in the crook of his neck.

'it really really hurts,' sanghyuk whines.

the sadness in his voice is a bit dramatic, just like the way he grips seokwoo, as if he were about to give his dying breath — but seokwoo also has had times during which he was just a little too much, during which he acted like he was climbing in his coffin when he only had a sprained ankle or a not-even-first-degree burnt hand.

so he strokes sanghyuk's back, and kisses the crown of his head, shifts once or twice so he's fully lying comfortably, and presses sanghyuk closer. he murmurs that they can just stay in bed then, and kisses sanghyuk's hair when sanghyuk grumbles an _okay._ he strokes, maps, draws shapeless patterns on his back, intertwines his fingers with sanghyuk's when they come looking for his, and smiles when sanghyuk's breathing becomes even. he hugs sanghyuk just a little tighter, and closes his eyes — and, lulled by the hot puffs of air against his neck, comfortably warm in sanghyuk's embrace, he falls asleep.

6\. there's a hand that trails up his back, fingertips retracing and following the paths mapped earlier today, last week, two weeks and three days ago, way too many times last month. they've been doing this a little less nowadays: time is not on their side — and recently, sanghyuk finds he cannot desire seokwoo when they only have one hour for themselves, when their meetings have to be squeezed between lunch breaks and unfinished reports. (recently, sanghyuk has been wanting to give seokwoo all the time in the world.)

'are you growing your hair out?'

seokwoo's hand wanders in his hair, brushing the strands on his nape before moving up, untangling the knots he made himself when he was pulling on it earlier. it's a sensation sanghyuk has been getting used to, one that he, honestly, doesn't really mind, and almost finds pleasant. but — he can't quite shake off the feeling that he wouldn't like it as much if it weren't seokwoo doing it.

'yeah.' he tilts his head, to give seokwoo better access to the spot above his ear. 'you like it?'

he focuses on the buttons of his shirt, on buttoning them correctly, on smoothing his sleeves out as best as he can, but still his heart stutters when seokwoo hums, when he says that he does.

'it's different,' he says. 'but i like it. you look good like this.'

sanghyuk blushes; overlooks his instincts screaming to hide it and turns to smile at seokwoo.

'better than before?'

seokwoo smiles, fondly, makes sanghyuk's heart flutter and stutter.

'it's different,' he repeats. 'i like it either way.'

he brushes sanghyuk's hair back, removes the now overly-long bangs that cover his forehead. smiles when his gaze meets sanghyuk's, then caresses his cheek, grazes his lips with a finger. teases him, then finally sits up, kisses him — just once.

‘i don’t want you to leave,’ he whispers — shouldn't; should know better, but he kisses sanghyuk again, and sanghyuk — sanghyuk doesn't care, sanghyuk wants to stay, too. he wants to remain here, and never have to move again. he wants to settle down in this bed, in this apartment, by seokwoo's side, until the end of time. he wants it all, everything they swore to never desire — everything seokwoo has been quietly requesting, for a while now. perhaps, when they have a little more time, and the restaurant down the street is open again — perhaps he could… 

'swear i'll be back.' sanghyuk pulls seokwoo closer, hand on his waist — making him shiver, sigh against his lips. 'just wait for me.'

he kisses him, deeply — pours all of his feelings into it, holds seokwoo like he is made of glass — kisses like this is their very last goodbye, and they will never meet again. seokwoo takes it, takes all of it — snakes his arms around his neck, and kisses back, gives back until they are breathless, and the only thing they have left is touch, forehead against forehead, the entire world at their feet.

'tonight,' sanghyuk says — and he shouldn't, he really shouldn't, but it feels so _right,_ seokwoo against him, in his arms, and the both of them in his bed, wasting their lives away, caring about nothing but themselves, about a future traced by them. he steals a peck, just one — _promises_ he'll swing by later this evening, that he'll spend the night if seokwoo wants him to.

'i want you to.'

seokwoo — does not kiss him, instead stares into his eyes as he speaks.

he means it, along with everything he, _they_ are not saying. he means it, means all of this — means much more, an unthinkable that only the future can uncover. sanghyuk hugs him tightly as they stand by the door, says he'll be here again in a few hours.

'i'll miss you,' seokwoo jokes — means it, too. 'take care. i'll wait for you.'

he pecks him on the lips, one last time before allowing him to go back to the real world, where this is a charade without a single string attached, where their only interactions consist of discussing reports. oh, how time has changed — sanghyuk promises to the heavens he will ask him out properly as soon as he can, that he will claim himself as his as soon as he is allowed to.

he already is, after all.

7\. he’s used to the sight of him now, small silhouette in a black suit, lone patch of standard sadness, allegory of mourning in a world of green, in a world of life. he sits at the foot of a tree this time, back resting against its trunk, and the expression on his face is unlike all the ones he's worn since they met — and for the first time, seokwoo believes the funeral he's come to matters.

'you again.'

his voice is feeble, far from the nonchalance it tries to channel — but seokwoo doesn't want to destroy his efforts, so he shrugs, smiles softly.

'i could say the same about you.'

sanghyuk attempts a laugh, but it comes out silent, like a gasp for air.

'i guess you're right.' a pause, then, 'so, who died, this time?'

'a coworker of my mother. never met him. and you?'

he doesn't want to ask the question, does so because it's what a polite person should do — but as sanghyuk sniffles, and straightens himself up, seokwoo wishes he had no manners.

'grandmother. on the maternal side. fell off a ladder and died.'

'i'm sorry.'

sanghyuk shrugs, once again tries to act like he's fine — fails at it, but seokwoo lets him pretend, lets him have this small victory over the battle he just lost.

he points at the space next to sanghyuk, to warn him, then sits down, bringing his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his ankles.

'you're going to dirty your pants,' sanghyuk says. 'you should have used your blazer as a cushion.'

he gestures to his own blazer, lying on the ground underneath him. his shoes sit right next to it, a pair of keys and a phone laid in the left one, a tissue in the right one. seokwoo ignores it, ignores the bright blue socks clashing with the deep black of the blazer, looks away.

'don't care.'

'you'll tell me when you struggle and fail to wipe off the green from your butt.'

seokwoo smiles at the image the words conjure up; still doesn't take his blazer off.

were things different, he'd ask sanghyuk if he minds sharing his jacket, would take pleasure in teasing him. but sanghyuk, no matter how snarky he tries to be, is hurt, and sitting next to him is already a violation of his personal space — so seokwoo locks the teasing away, for another time, and keeps quiet.

there's a slight wind, barely there, caressing his hands, playing with his hair — pleasant, and seokwoo enjoys the way it travels through the trees, creating the softest rustles, carrying birds as they take flight. it is soothing, and seokwoo thinks it fits the place: the abundance of green; the sun, seeping through the branches yet not quite reaching the pair; the clouds; the trees protecting them. it's a quiet place: safe from prying eyes, and the world in general, a shelter where one could lay and bury their worries if the fancy overtook them. it's - perfect, and seokwoo closes his eyes, lets the chirping of birds and the silence surrounding him and sanghyuk lull him, focuses on his breathing and empties his mind.

'i really hate this suit.'

seokwoo opens his eyes, takes a peek at sanghyuk.

he's slouching, fiddling with his hands, his nails, trying to distract himself from the grief and the pain. seokwoo doesn't know if it's working well, so he listens, offers to be another diversion.

'she loved it. thought i looked dashing in it. she was blind in one-eye though, so i'm not sure she fully knew how ugly it was.'

sanghyuk chuckles, once, quietly, to himself, to the memories submerging him.

'it really fucking sucks that she's dead. not because of this… atrocity… but…'

he doesn't finish, brings his legs to his chest and hugs them tight. he looks small, vulnerable like this, face half-burrowed in his knees, and seokwoo wants to comfort him, wants to reach out and lay a hand on his back — can't, doesn't know him enough to do so — simply nods to himself and keeps listening.

'i miss her,' sanghyuk mutters, 'i do. she was really small — she always seemed so frail when I hugged her. but- she was actually really strong, you know. could beat me in a game of arm wrestling. god, that was so humiliating.'

another faint laugh, sanghyuk's knuckles turning white as his grip around his legs tightens.

'it's so- _was_ so sudden. i don't even know how i feel. i say i miss her, but do i? i'm not even- not even used to her absence. it's barely been five days. it's like yesterday she-'

sanghyuk chokes up, opens and closes his mouth, trying to express what he's feeling, failing to find the right words. he sighs, a broken, lonely sigh, then hides his face in his knees, clutches his legs like he might shatter into pieces if he doesn't. he does not cry, does not start to sob — simply breathes, and tries to keep himself together, tries to keep his head above water.

a tough task, exhausting and impossibly lonely, with its ocean that stretches and burns and suffocates on and on, with none to see you struggle, none to see you drown — and seokwoo thinks, that in such situation, whom the helping hand belongs to does not matter.

'sanghyuk.'

he lays a hand on sanghyuk's back, gently, brushing it against the not-so-ugly black shirt before resting it there, in-between the shoulder blades, right underneath sanghyuk's nape. he waits, and waits, sanghyuk staying silent, and when he has to wait again, his hand travels up, comes to a stop at sanghyuk's shoulder. traces a circle on it with his thumb, presses it — and sanghyuk does not look up, but he reaches for his hand, grips it like a child who's scared of letting go of their parent's hand. seokwoo aches.

'sanghyuk,' he repeats, softer, quieter. it's a mere whisper, but sanghyuk hears it, squeezes his hand to tell him he's listening.

and there are no words that can bring him peace, no words that can heal his soul: _i'm sorry; she's in a better place; it's okay_ — none of these really helps, none of these really mean something to anyone, apart the person uttering them. seokwoo knows that — but as the warmth of his hand seeps through sanghyuk's, as he feels and understands every gesture of sanghyuk, he figures words aren't needed for this talk.

he presses sanghyuk's shoulder, scoots closer to him.

'sanghyuk,' he says, for the last time, 'let me hold you.'

and it’s a request more than a simple call: seokwoo will beg for sanghyuk to accept until he gets an answer — but sanghyuk - sanghyuk speaks, and mutters a _please_ — cracks, and lets him.

he falls gracelessly into his arms, fragile creature whose home has been shattered; burying his face in his chest, sighing as seokwoo wraps his arms around him. he is quiet, silently broken for a moment, then his shoulders shake, and he exhales, lets out a sob, then another and another. he cries, lets the water that's been choking him up, the pain that's been destroying him, go, slowly then quicker, loud; making noises that have seokwoo hugging him tighter, that have him closing his eyes and wishing everything were different. he holds sanghyuk, closely, whispers words of comfort that ring hollow and ununderstanding — knows there isn't a single thing that can make sanghyuk feel better, but tries nevertheless, tracing a never-ending circle on his back.

'it's alright,' he whispers — lies through his teeth, hates himself for doing so. 'it's alright.'

it isn't, not at all: a part of sanghyuk's anchor has fallen apart, can no longer keep him afloat — all the water he was once unfamiliar with is now swallowing him whole, attempting to drag him to the depths of their home. sanghyuk doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve to know this pain — seokwoo liked this entire thing much better when he was the desperate one, when sanghyuk couldn't care less about his own funeral. he liked it much better when the water reached his ankles and sanghyuk could not comprehend it at all. now it is a familiar environment for him, and seokwoo can do nothing, cannot even drag him to the surface. he's back to the ground, solid, unwavering under his feet — he can only bend down, crouch, and call sanghyuk's name, dip his hand in water, and hope for him to grab it, hope for it to light his way. 

'how does it even get better?' sanghyuk sniffles as he asks the question, shakes a little in his arms. 'and does it ever?'

'it does,' seokwoo replies — once again wishes he were ill-mannered, wishes he didn't know the truth — wishes he didn't have to tell it to sanghyuk, wishes he could lie to him. 'you get used to it. that's how it gets better.'

sanghyuk — shifts, slightly — it takes seokwoo a few seconds to understand he's pulled back, just a little; that he's looking up, at him. like a child: big teary eyes gazing into his soul, red cheeks marked by tears streaks. he's a sight, to behold and witness — to keep secret, to take to the grave: sharing it with someone else would cause more harm than anything else.

'say you're lying. please.' sanghyuk pokes him in the chest, half-heartedly — grimaces, thin rictus stretching his lips, and repeats himself. 'tell me that's not how it goes.'

seokwoo nibbles on his bottom lip — remains silent. has no blessing to address to such despair — does not want to push the ugly truth out again. he traces his circle once, and swallows when his gaze meets sanghyuk's. shiny eyes, on the verge of letting their owner drown — a sinking ship, unable to let its captain out.

'i don't want to get used to this,' sanghyuk whispers, and his finger slides down — clings to seokwoo's blazer, attempting to stay afloat. he can't, doesn't manage to: he blinks, and a tear rolls down his cheek — is followed by another, and another. seokwoo aches. 'i don't want to get used to this, not at all. why should i? i don't want her to be dead. i don't want her to be away. i want her to be here. i want her to be… to be…'

he doesn't finish his sentence — moans instead, quietly, and allows seokwoo to pull him back into his arms — wraps his own around his back, clings to him like one would to a lifebuoy. he cries, again — this time more softly, this time more desperately — seokwoo breaks his circle off, and comes to hold his head instead, tucks it in the crook of his neck, where he almost fits perfectly. 

'i'm sorry,' he says, and he repeats it, again and again, gently rocks him as he does so. there is nothing else that can be expressed, nothing else that will ever solve this situation. and he could offer other words of comfort — but most of them hurt, and the ones that do not are lies. there is only room for apologies, and whispers that seokwoo is here — only room for silence when sanghyuk's cries intensify; and gentle touches, caresses — a simple embrace, and nothing more, arms that do not let go no matter what.

sanghyuk never really calms down — he keeps on sniffling and tearing up after he's pulled back, rests his head on seokwoo's shoulder and sticks to his side, does not once move away.

he burns every shred of distance that is required for them, steps on the entire concept of personal space — but seokwoo does not mind. he holds out his hand for sanghyuk to hold, and lets him cling to it, does not once release his grip on it. this is the least he can do for him, for a friend who has lost his light.

and it does not seem to seokwoo that they will ever find a way back today, that sanghyuk will ever be able to breathe like he used to. but at the very least, after a while — sanghyuk's fingers around his hand are gentle, and when seokwoo whispers once again, one last time, that it will be okay — he says he almost believes him.

8\. seokwoo is naked in his bed; the greatest sight of the century. well, not entirely naked: the covers pool at his waist, letting his hips peek just a tiny, tiny bit — but he's staring at him lovingly, like he's the best thing he's ever touched and laid eyes on, and sanghyuk has to admit, it does things to his ego and his heart.

'you're staring,' sanghyuk finally says, pointing out the obvious for the rumoured gods watching above.

seokwoo doesn't reply, only smiles bigger, rests his head on his hand as sanghyuk buttons up his shirt. he remains silent, and keeps staring, perfect creature somehow lying in sanghyuk's bed, and making it his home, actually considering sanghyuk something worth his attention. a statue come to life, an angel fallen from heaven, the son of aphrodite; but somehow it's sanghyuk he wants, somehow it's him that lights up his entire world. there are mysteries far greater than a potential fountain of youth existing, in the end.

'you're staring,' sanghyuk repeats, and this time he looks him in the eye, waits for a reply.

and it comes:

'i'm enjoying the view,' seokwoo says.

his eyes glint, turn into crescents as sanghyuk blushes; he laughs and looks at sanghyuk as if he were the one that's been carved by god himself.

'happy to hear that.'

sanghyuk hesitates, glancing at his bare feet then the clock, a little too aware that he might be late if he indulges seokwoo. but what can he do when he looks at him like that?

'want a closer look?'

there's no need for seokwoo to nod, to say _yes,_ but he still does, watching as sanghyuk kneels on the bed and crosses the achingly long distance between them. he smiles even wider if that's possible, and giggles stupidly when sanghyuk pecks him on the cheek, then on the lips. sanghyuk is totally endeared, utterly in love, and the feeling only accentuates when seokwoo falls back on the pillows, strands of hair falling in his eyes, contrasting with the white of the covers.

he's so, _so_ pretty — sanghyuk believes he had never seen true beauty until he met seokwoo. he wants to tell him, wants to carve it with his mouth on every inch of his skin, wants to whisper it in his ear, wants to shout it from the rooftops and tell the entire world. but that can wait, another time when he's not taken by time, when he can fully love seokwoo and confess sweet nothings like they're prayers.

for now, he'll do with a few kisses and some more, peppered here and there on his face, a little on his shoulder and his neck, mostly on his lips. seokwoo giggles, and giggles, like a teenager discovering love on a starry night, and sanghyuk lets him, becomes one with him, smiling as he plants kisses on his soft, pink lips, seeing true love when he pulls back and looks into his eyes.

'i love you,' he whispers, shyly, nervous grin crawling and settling on his lips.

seokwoo notices and understands, catches his anxiety with his hands and makes it disappear with caresses, replaces it with love as he cups his face.

'i love you too,' he says, quiet yet confident, proud of his feelings, of seeing them in sanghyuk.

he sits up, kisses sanghyuk slowly and passionately — and sanghyuk, fulfilled, loved, thinks he can allow himself to be late — thinks that, just for once, he can forget about the entire world, and focus on the sudden meaning seokwoo has given to his life.

9\. he stands there, his heart in his hand. looking even mightier than usual, the full moon wrapping him in a glow that is not quite human, his eyes shining green, then grey, then going back to normal. seokwoo is scared, immensely scared, but when sanghyuk asks him if he's afraid — he swallows it all, and shakes his head.

'i'm not,' he lies.

sanghyuk knows, can probably see it in his whole attitude; and if he cannot, he can probably tell from the look in his eyes, from the way seokwoo avoids his gaze. he's terrified, oh so terrified.

'it's alright.' a step forward, two steps forward. something forbidden — seokwoo feels distant heartbeats, feels heat surrounding them. 'don't be afraid.'

it's a short distance: seokwoo could have crossed it in five big steps. but as sanghyuk stops before him, as seokwoo's heart most definitely panics, and fails to contain its anxiety, as it screams its every thought into sanghyuk's hand — it appears huge, infinite, and seokwoo wishes for sanghyuk to step back, wishes to be as far from him as possible — wishes to be in his arms, loved, adored; at home.

seokwoo closes his eyes.

'don't be afraid,' sanghyuk repeats. his hand grazes seokwoo's cheek — the other one squeezes his heart, lightly, to assure him it feels him panic, to reassure it. how warm it is, how soft it is — seokwoo feels weak, insanely weak — likes the gentle touch on his skin, wishes for it to never leave him.

‘i,’ he starts — does not finish, insecure, worried — the beats of his heart deafening; rendering him unable to even think. sanghyuk is there, right before him, _close, too close_ — his eyes shine gold as he finally meets his gaze, gold then green, again, a pale mix of cyans and emeralds — great imitation of the sea during autumn, winter, under the rain; better than reality, infinitely better - 

(he could drown in them.)

(would not mind at all.)

(he should.)

a thumb trailing up his cheekbone, then down, caressing him — he should worry, should refuse this, 

‘my heart.’ (there it is: the fear attempts to speak.) ‘my heart.’

‘do you want it back?’ 

should say yes,

‘i will if you want me to.’ 

should want him to,

‘just tell me.’

but...

(sanghyuk’s eyes scan his face, look for any sign of refusal — in his hand, seokwoo’s heart beats much too loudly, much too forcefully — and oh, how much it worsens when seokwoo turns his gaze away from his — when he himself lets his eyes wander — when he glances at his nose, and notices how thin it is; when he mentally traces the line of his jaw, and wonders how sharp it would be under a finger — when he reaches out to know, and sanghyuk’s gaze locks with his — when there is only soft skin under his finger, and a path he must trace — when he realises what he’s doing, and yet — keeps on trailing down, only stops when he reaches sanghyuk’s chin, and his thumb is pulled towards -)

‘seokwoo.’

sanghyuk’s lips wrap prettily around the name, graze seokwoo’s thumb as they give it a shape. and what a shape: better than any shape the seven letters were ever given, better than any colour they’ve ever been painted in, better than any life they’ve been gifted. seokwoo — 

has to lean in just a little, to get a better look at the gifters of life, to inspect them — they’re red, slightly; plump; almost -

‘i…’

another unfinished sentence, thought — this is everything he was raised to stand against, everything he was told to fear, but —

(sanghyuk’s hand holds his heart just a little tighter, keeps it safe. he must feel every beat — must know everything; that)

all he craves is a kiss, inviting lips on his, warming him up and slowly teaching him what to do — being clement about his lack of knowledge and kissing him again, showing him this — that — pulling away only to better come back, to give him more, and more — making all of this alright, and making the tales disappear — giving his heart just what it asks for, and never once shaming it for it.

 _he…_ yearns and can do nothing else, has been struck and is now stuck here, heart in the palm of sanghyuk’s hand, glued to it, never wanting to leave it.

(it should be scary. he should be afraid.)

‘i want this.’

(he should.)

(he is.)

‘are you sure?’

green, grey, gold, red eyes — a thin nose — a delicate neck — a small silhouette — even smaller hands — a gentle voice — gentle whispers — gentle words — gentle lips, that construct them — that let them out — that brush against his thumb —

how would — how _will_ they feel, against his?

(but here the problem lies: he yearns, more than anything, more than he should.)

there is only one way to know.

(a broken heart has long stopped being a nightmare.)

‘kiss me.’

(if it is meant to shatter, after all — it will.)

sanghyuk obliges him —

and in his hand, seokwoo’s heart catches fire.

(the tales were wrong all this time.)

10\. there is, supposedly, a big difference between sanghyuk the burglar and sanghyuk the boyfriend — but as seokwoo stares at him, dressed in clothes that definitely belong to _his_ part of the wardrobe, he fails to see it.

'sanghyuk,' he sighs. 'why are you wearing my hoodie.'

sanghyuk blinks, brings a hand to his chest.

'this is mine. i have no idea what you mean.'

'sure. just like you have no idea how my socks landed on your feet. just like you're somehow wearing my glasses. i have a _prescription,_ sanghyuk. it's going to cost a lot of money to put these lenses back in their place.'

sanghyuk doesn't falter, keeps up the act.

'what glasses? babe, these are mine! have you never seen them before?'

seokwoo sighs, again, grabs the glasses and inspects them.

'i have, i have.' sanghyuk reaches for the spectacles, is met with seokwoo's hand, flat against his face, keeping him sat on the couch. 'i've seen them many times. on my face. with lenses. you know, the way they're supposed to be. not as an accessory. they- jesus, you're disgusting.'

sanghyuk smirks, gives another lick to his hand, just to mess with him, and seokwoo groans.

'you're killing me,' he says, looking at his tee-shirt then his hoodie, pretty sure that whichever piece of clothing he'll wipe his hand on, will still be a win for sanghyuk.

'nonono. don't say that. i love you.'

sanghyuk grabs his hand, wipes it with the gigantic sleeve of his — seokwoo's — hoodie. he smiles, like a kid who just got gifted a family-sized bag of candy, an endearing, stupid smile, and seokwoo rolls his eyes, fights off the sudden glee warming his heart.

sanghyuk kisses his hand, and he fails to contain his laughter. decides he might as well entirely give in.

'yes, yes.' he pokes sanghyuk's forehead, pushes him back on the couch and climbs on top of him. sanghyuk doesn't mind, smiles wider. 'you drive me crazy. you're going to fry all my neurons.'

sanghyuk snakes his arms around his neck, laughs when seokwoo kisses him.

'won't,' he says. 'i care about your neurons. i would never hurt them.'

'and yet here you are.'

seokwoo leans in, doesn't kiss sanghyuk, waits, just to get back at him. he's second in those games, always beaten by sanghyuk, master of patience and trickery. but, sometimes, sanghyuk lets him win, teacher suddenly surrendering, allowing his student to witness his emotions, what lies behind the mask he so often wears. not because he's tired, or because he might crack — but because he likes seokwoo, and trusts him with his heart.

this is one of those times.

sanghyuk kisses him, quickly, just a brush of his lips against seokwoo's. he laughs, snickers like seokwoo imagines he does when he's managed yet another mischief in the outside world; then kisses him again, happiness and joy trickling down his lips and into seokwoo's mouth, reaching his heart and flowing into his veins, making him smile as he kisses back.

'i love your neurons,' sanghyuk says, petting his hair, combing it with his fingers. 'i'll protect them. all of them.'

seokwoo laughs, has to think up a reply before opening his mouth.

'that does not comfort me. you're burning them with your lies.'

sanghyuk smiles, softly, lays his hand on his neck and caresses it, unknowingly pulls him closer.

'i'll take care of them just like i do with your heart. i'll safely tuck them into the pockets of whichever hoodie or jacket or pants or whatever i'll have stolen from you. and i'll kiss them goodnight.'

it's one of the cheesiest things sanghyuk has ever said, second only to that time they were observing the stars at two o'clock. but — seokwoo likes cheesy, likes to be wooed, likes it when sanghyuk says stupid things and thinks them, likes the way he loves him and shows it. it's not typical-top-5-romcom, but it's unique, and sincere, and it feels like what seokwoo's heart has been looking for since it started beating. home, perhaps, in the warmth of his hand, tender and careful in the way it holds it, strong and always there when it becomes frail and easily breakable. keeping it, _him,_ safe and sound, loved and adored.

it's unique, in typical sanghyuk fashion, but seokwoo wouldn't have it any other way, hopes he never has to experience the loss of it. he's not sure he could survive without it.

he kisses sanghyuk, gently, rests his forehead against his. gets lost in his scent, and smiles, exhilarated.

'alright,' he says.

and he knows, by how loud his heart beats, by the brightness sanghyuk's smile adds to his world, by how safe and loved he feels — his neurons will be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> beloved old-as-balls drabbles. + here's smtg i just couldn't manage to fit into the seventh one (can consider it a summary, actually):
> 
> they sit in the pool that is sanghyuk's misery, one clothed and the other naked, drenched, soaked to the skin — one draping his jacket around the other's shoulders, and losing it to the wind, seeing it fly away. they sit, and sit, and sit, just like always; like never before. they sit — and never once does it get better, but at the very least — they are together.  
> and the water never rises.
> 
> thats all for today folks!!!! make sure your hearts are in good hands!!!!


End file.
